


The Sound of Pulling Heaven Down

by azure_horizon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_horizon/pseuds/azure_horizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The experience of hunting Horcruxes creates dependencies they hadn't been ready for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Pulling Heaven Down

_tell me when you hear me falling_

_there’s a possibility it wouldn’t show_

 

Mrs Weasley had been kind enough to extend an invitation for them to stay at the Burrow after the funeral and as Hermione lay in the dark beside a sleeping Ginny, she couldn’t help but wonder if it might have been better if she had gone to stay at her parents’ old house. She’d been in bed for hours, acutely aware of every creak and groan of the house as it and its companions settled in for the night. She still wasn’t used to having a roof over her head and the tic-tic of the rain against the windows unsettled rather than soothed her. She turned her eyes to the window but there was only blackness beyond. She stared at it, studied the obliqueness that taunted her and then turned away, jostling the bed as she tucked her head underneath the thin pillow.

 

The floorboards of the stairs outside her room creaked and groaned as someone descended and she could tell from the gait and rhythm of the steps that it was Harry. She stopped breathing, straining her ears to hear his approach despite herself. She bit the inside of her lip when he stopped outside the bedroom door and she let out a shaky breath when she heard the gentle scrape of skin against wood as he pressed his hand to the door. Her eyes closed automatically against the tears that sprang to her eyes and she had to remind herself that it was Ginny he was seeking. Her mind painted a picture on the blank canvas of her eyelids of him outside the door, his bed-mussed hair, glasses perched over eyes dark with lack of sleep.

 

His lips forming her name in a gentle whisper.

 

She sighed shakily when his footsteps started again and he descended to the lower floors in search of... something. Anything to take away the pain of the past seven years of his life; in vain because she knew they both knew that escape was not so easy. She wanted to go to him, like she had in Godric’s Hollow, like she had the night after he’d finally – _finally ­–_ killed Voldemort. She pulled the pillow tighter over her head and sobbed soundlessly into it.

 

_tell me when you hear my silence_

_there’s a possibility i wouldn’t know_

 

Three weeks had passed and Mrs Weasley still hadn’t rescinded her invitation for Harry and Hermione to stay and Hermione knew that she and Harry were at least helping to fill an unfillable void left behind by Fred’s death.

 

The nights were getting longer, the days drawing in around them and she knew Harry was struggling just as much as she was to reacclimatise to having people around them. She saw it in the way he would jump when he turned and Ron was beside him, or the way he sought solace in the skies above the Burrow, in the way he hovered outside of her bedroom door at night. She knew he knew she was awake for the simple reason that he was Harry; he knew her.

 

When Mrs Weasley called her name, Hermione snapped her eyes up from where she had been tearing apart the tassle on one of the couch cushions and knew that she had been caught in a lapse. From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry watching her and she met his eye for a moment before looking away and swallowing sharply against the bitter lump in the back of her throat.

 

She was to set the table and she reached for the plates, setting them on the table, Muggle-style, almost whimpering when she felt Harry’s warm presence by her side as he set the knives and forks. His chest brushed her arm every now and again and she felt the familiar tingles at the contact. As she set the last plate, she leaned against the table, gripping the edge of it to hide her shaking hands. He paused behind her, his breath warm against her neck. She felt the heat from his hand hover over her hip before he took a step back. She looked up to see Ron lumbering through the doorway.

 

She looked back to Harry over her shoulder, meeting his eyes properly for the first time since she’d left his bed at Hogwarts almost a month ago now.

 

She saw her own pain reflected back at her in his eyes.

 

_tell me when you hear my heart stop_

_you’re the only one that knows_

 

She didn’t go to bed that and when Harry made his way downstairs at half past three, he didn’t hesitate outside of the second floor bedroom. His steps were tentative but steady and she counted them until he appeared in the doorway to the living room. She met his eyes, gulping in air. They stared, the air thickening and clinging to the walls around them. Wordlessly he took her hand, leading them outside into the cool night.

 

He kept walking into the fields surrounding the Burrow, further and further until she could no longer see the lights from the house. She felt a murmur in her veins and Harry stopped and she knew they had passed through the anti-Apparition Wards. He turned to her, his fingers tightening around hers for a moment before he held his other arm open. She stepped up to him, wrapping her body around his and moments before she felt the pull that would drag her away from the Burrow, she felt his lips graze her temple.

 

They were at Godric’s Hollow, she knew even before she pulled back from him and she felt her eyes well with tears before she could control it. His hand slid into her hair, her face tilted up to meet his. It was lips and teeth and lips and tongue, quiet murmurs spreading through her body like a pulse.

 

It was Harry.

 

Harry.

 

With fingers of experience, clothing was shed.

 

Night shirts.

 

T-shirts.

 

Vests.

 

Bra.

 

There was a tug, a brief flash and then a bed beneath her and in the back of her mind she understood he’d apparated them to his parents’ old home. Part of her recoiled at the fact while another part of her responded to his expert touch. She  returned the touch, both of them willing students of the other and she arched up against him as he took her breasts into his hand, his lips attaching to the sensitive skin and sucking. She clutched at his hair with sharp fingers, her breathless calls of his name going unheeded. His lips trailed liquid fire down her stomach, across her hips and his hands followed, butterfly wings against her skin.

 

He pulled back, looking up at her and she wordlessly took his face in her hands and pulled him back up her body, melding her lips to his. He moaned when she arched against him, his hardness pressing against her stomach through his boxer shorts. His hand skittered down her sides, finger tips teasing the underside of her breasts again before falling to finger the elastic waist of her pants.

 

She moaned, a low sound in her throat and she hissed when he bit her bottom lip sharply before sucking it back between his own, licking it better. The distraction seemed to have worked because his fingers were sliding over her wet heat and she tore her mouth from to draw in much needed air.

 

“Oh God, Harry...” she managed in a whisper, the first words spoken between them for almost a month.

 

He stilled looking down to her eyes, his expression one of intense focus. She recalled it from memory, from the last time he’d hovered over her like this.

 

“Hermione...” he murmured, a benediction and she brought her knees up, hooking her toes into his waistband to help divest him of his last layer. He followed her initiative, trailing his lips down her jaw and neck, following the line of her cotton pants down her legs as he slowly extracted them from her. “I...” He began, his voice cracking before he’d even managed to say anything. He looked up to her from where he was kneeled at the foot of the bed before lifting one of her legs to kiss her ankle. He mirrored the motion on her other side before crawling back up her body, leaving open mouthed kisses along the inside of her thigh. He hovered over her again, his breath warm on her face. She curled her hand around his neck and drew him down as he slid inside of her. “Need you...”

 

She nodded, unable to speak. He moved slowly and she threw her head back and his lips descending, biting at the skin there. She knew there would be a mark that she couldn’t hide or explain away but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She hooked her legs around his waist and he dragged one hand from her hip to her knee, driving himself further into her. She clawed at his back; she couldn’t get close enough, no matter how much she pulled at him. She felt like she would never be close enough. He grabbed her chin with one hand and stared at her and she realised she was crying. He crushed his mouth to hers, raking his fingers over her body and she scratched at his back, helpless sobs breaking in the air around them.

 

Despite it, she could feel the slow build, the fire in the pit of her stomach and she held onto him tighter, allowing him to lift her lower half off the bed so only her shoulder kept her up. She cried out at the new angle, digging her nails into his shoulders and dragging them down his back. He arched his back away from her, digging his hips into hers and she cried out again, blinded by the flashes of light behind her closed eyes. There was a low din in her ear and she realised it was their voices chanting each others’ names.

 

There wasn’t much else as she floated back to Earth; only Hermione and Harry and their panted, stuttering breaths.

 

He dropped his head to her neck, his lips resting against her skin in a lazy attempt at a kiss. She combed her fingers through the sweaty hairs at the back of his neck and touched her lips to whatever salty skin she could reach.

 

“Hermione?” He questioned croakily some time later, jerking her out of a slumber. He was still on top of her, his weight a comfort in the dark house.

 

“Hmm?” She hummed and tried to turn her head. He pulled back slightly, fingers cradling her jaw, eyes intense but soft.

 

“Don’t...” He frowned and shook his head slightly, fingers digging into her skin lightly. “Don’t ask me to give you up again.” More tears welled. “I can’t. Not again.”

 

“I wouldn’t be able to ask it of you, Harry...” she tried to say but the words were lost in a sob but he seemed to understand because his lips met hers in a brief, chaste kiss. His head dropped back into the crook of her neck and she fought against the tears for breath. “Don’t ask me to leave you again, Harry.”

 

He shook his head and it was the only response she got. She stroked his hair and let her eyes drift shut.

 

The rain pattering against the window lulled her to sleep.

 

_so tell me when my sigh is over_

_you’re the reason why i’m closed_


End file.
